


he licks those lips and off we go

by Mossbeast



Category: Bleach
Genre: And I'm not sorry, I'm just putting thara in horny jail, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, There Is No Story, What Was I Thinking?, no sorry, nope - Freeform, oh look another piece of sober writing, this is pure pwp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:55:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29204718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossbeast/pseuds/Mossbeast
Summary: Grimmjow notices something and sneaks into the world of the living to investigate.
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 13
Kudos: 86
Collections: Welcome to Horny Jail!!





	he licks those lips and off we go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thara (IffyWolf)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IffyWolf/gifts).



> this is pure shameless not-so-self-indulgent smut and it's probably not even good so y'know. read at your own discretion.  
> there is no plot. who is she? I don't know her.

Time is hard to tell in Hueco Mundo, so sometimes when Grimmjow tears open a Garganta it's broad daylight and Kurosaki gets annoyed with him because he's skipping university, or it's dusky and the redhead yells at Grimmjow for interrupting dinner, or it's the deepest, darkest part of the night and this is where it gets weird: sometimes Kurosaki looks like he's still half asleep, but yells at regular volume. The choice of words is, perhaps, a little more harsh and Grimmjow finds it amusing that this monster of a spiritual being still needs to defer to his human body so much. Other times, Kurosaki looks ruffled, cheeks tinted red and smelling of sweat when Grimmjow comes tearing open the sky at night. He's quieter then, definitely not only annoyed but an air of shame clings to him and Grimmjow is more than a little intrigued. And he acts on it.

Contrary to public belief, Grimmjow is well aware of the concept of sneaking and he is good at it. Ripping open the sky will always leave a mark, but piggybacking off a lesser hollow? Shinigami are painfully slow and he's slipped through the veil before the Shinigami even started moving towards the lesser hollow.

He rests in the air, takes in how peaceful Karakura is at night. It's almost painful to see the humans sleep in their beds, blissfully unaware of the threat looming over the town. So many lives he could snuff out with less than a breath. But he's set his sights on something else, and he will see what has Kurosaki burning up with shame. He nears the beacon that is his enemy's reiatsu and hovers over the clinic, trying to figure out how to get in. The whole thing is still warded, except for Kurosaki's bedroom window. He peers into the dark room and finds the kid in question sleeping, peacefully. No shame to be found here, he thinks, and settles against the window, watching. He's pretty late tonight, early sunlight already tickles the horizon and just when Grimmjow is about to remove himself and fuck off, as Kurosaki put it so kindly, the redhead stirs and blinks his eyes open. Kurosaki looks incredibly soft, is the first thing Grimmjow notices. The frown is not present and he looks comfortable, content. The kid always seems to have a stick up his ass - most certainly not in a fun way - but mornings look different. The redhead rises, stretching himself before slipping out of the bed and padding off deeper into the house.

Grimmjow senses his chance and slips through the window, leaving everything undisturbed, and phases through the ceiling to settle in the attic above Ichigo's room to... Well. He's doing reconnaissance work, he tells himself, and with that justification he carefully carves a hole into the wooden panels to be able to see.

Kurosaki returns and carefully clicks the door shut before locking it. Odd, but okay. Humans can have their odd moments and Grimmjow can respect that. The kid sits on his bed and and checks his phone, aimlessly scrolling through pages before he sets it down and casts a glance around the room. Smart, Grimmjow thinks. Kurosaki has predator instincts. A little more training and he might actually be a force to be reckoned with.

Grimmjow is a little lost in thought so when he looks back down to find Ichigo on his back, legs spread and cock fisted firmly, he very nearly makes a sound. It's not fair to be watching this, he thinks, but the shiver running up his spine with an intensity like pinpricks makes it impossible to move. Kurosaki looks good, Grimmjow realizes. Slightly flushed face, abdominal muscles taught, thighs shaking and straining as pale hips jerk up, driving the red and leaking cock into Kurosaki's fist again and again.

The redhead stretches and groans, screwing his eyes shut and huffing. His neck is a delicious pale line, tendons straining out, framing the pale larynx as if to say bite me here. Grimmjow has never been so turned on in his, well, afterlife. His breath is trapped deep in his chest as he watches Kurosaki jerk himself into climax, absolutely stunned when milky white semen splatters over the pale, scarred chest, leaving spots Kurosaki wipes off with a rag but that are forever seared into Grimmjow's inner eye. He almost, almost misses the soft breath that carries his name from Kurosaki's lips. He doesn't think he could forgive himself if he did.

Weeks later and Grimmjow has watched Kurosaki. Without fail he slips through a lesser hollow's Garganta and hides in the Kurosaki attic, reiatsu suppressed to a minimum. He knows where Ichigo is especially sensitive, knows the facial range of pleasure and pain. He can finally place the hooded glances the soul reaper will throw him during battles that turn him blushing not soon after. Grimmjow has learned that after their fights, Ichigo will fuck himself on a rubber cock and moan Grimmjow's name with abandon.

He's plotted and ployed but not yet found a way to taste the milk Ichigo's been wasting at least twice a week. Thought about ways to drink the moans and gasps from the redhead's lips. Considered asking Ichigo - but what is he? A jaded hollow, a broken weapon. Kurosaki deserves someone whole, who can love him with abandon and not want to devour him every now and then.

So he resigns himself to watch and desire. Watches Ichigo prepare himself and then shove three fingers up his ass, moaning for the one who sits above him and watches, barely keeping from rutting against his own palm. The longer this goes, the better it seems to get - for both. Grimmjow is no longer entirely overwhelmed and can take in all the microexpressions and muscle twitches, the path of beads of sweat along the hairline, the disheveled spikes of orange hair. He watches Kurosaki work his way from a fairly modest plug to a monstrous glass dildo, sees the race of goosebumps down hairy thighs and up a torso that looks like its been cut from marble.

Grimmjow has taken a liking to a set of nipple clamps that leave Ichigo panting and whining deep in his throat, sometimes wonders how heavy they are.

He doesn't think he can ever approach Kurosaki about it and knows he has to stop, but he just can't. These moments he sees fill a void in him that he wasn't aware of prior to .. right, reconnaissance. He's doing reconnaissance. If reconnaissance leaves him panting and satisfied, well, who cares when no one but him knows?

Kurosaki rocks his body against an angry purple silicone dick that can stick to the wall, shuddering at every impact. He won't touch himself when he does this - and isn't it perverse that Grimmjow knows how Kurosaki uses his toys? - but just continue assaulting his prostate until he shouts Grimmjow's name and soils the bed so hard that he stopped using a towel altogether.

It's not enough. Never enough.

Grimmjow can still see faint red lines from their scuffle a few days ago and imagines his fingernails raking over milky pale skin as he thrusts into a tight, hot body instead of his fist. Imagines the bruises his fingers would leave on slim hips, the marks of his teeth around strong shoulders and that long, thin neck. Red and blue and purple covering all those delicious inces of pale, unmarred skin as he stakes his claim over and over again. But it's a fantasy and that's all it'll ever be, even if Kurosaki sobs his name into the pillow when he finally can't take the abuse of his prostate any longer and spills all over his sheets. Hissing as he removes himself from the purple contraption, looking a little lost. And Grimmjow would scoop him up, bury the redhead in his arms as their sweat cooled and their heartbeats went back to normal, soaking up each other's scent and reiatsu until neither of them could tell where one began and the other ended.

A little dreaming never hurt anyone, not even a hollow.

**Author's Note:**

> grimmichi discord made me do it  
> thara ~~wanted to~~ go to horny jail
> 
> you should absolutely check out [Ichigo's POV](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29252397) of this!


End file.
